


Botany of Desire

by Ephermeralk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Sex Pollen, roadhead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Sex-pollen - Warning
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephermeralk/pseuds/Ephermeralk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam could have told his brother this wasn’t a good idea. Actually, he did—multiple times. Pointedly. That hasn’t stopped Dean from going on a hunt for a goddamn sex-pheromone-inducing plant in the Redwoods. So whatever happens from here on out is <i>so</i> not Sam’s fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Botany of Desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rivkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivkat/gifts).



>   
> **A/n:** Written for [](http://rivkat.livejournal.com/profile)[**rivkat**](http://rivkat.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/profile)[**spn_j2_xmas**](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/) challenge. I took your like of sex-pollen and then played with the trope a bit. Hope that’s okay! Wishing you a wonderful holiday season ♥ ♥ Thanks to my lovely, wonderful [](http://sleepypercy.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sleepypercy.livejournal.com/)**sleepypercy** for the beta. *Title stolen shamelessly from Michael Pollan’s amazing book, regarding the co-evolution of plants and humans.  
> 

“For the record,” Sam states for what’s probably the fifth time this hour, “I think this is a horrible idea.”

  
“So you’ve said,” Dean responds, ignoring the look that Sam’s shooting him and taking a drink of coffee instead. It’s absolutely infuriating how blasé he is about this. Also, it’s totally unfair that _Sam_ gets called the stubborn one in the family, when it’s Dean who _refuses_ to listen to reason. 

  
“And yet, we’re still headed up the 101 towards the redwoods to find a sex-plant. In what universe do you think this is going to turn out well, Dean?” 

  
“The one where neither of us has to work for tail. Ever again.” 

  
“It’s not like we have trouble anyways. I’m hot. You’re hot. We freaking won the genetics lottery when it comes to looks. Besides, even if you use it, I’m not going to.” 

  
“Fine. Don’t. More for me, then.” 

  
“Seriously, Dean. Actually take a moment and think—I know you’re smart, somewhere deep down. When has anything supernatural ever come without a price?” 

  
“It’s not ‘supernatural’,” Dean air-quotes, taking his hands off the steering wheel long enough that Sam reaches over to grab it, his shoulder digging into his brother’s hard chest. Huh. Sometime while he’d been at Stanford, Dean must have filled out. With the baggy tee-shirts and plaid button-downs that he’d taken to wearing, combined with the way he’d slept in his clothes, changing only in the bathroom, it was impossible to notice. Until now. 

  
Then Dean’s pointed elbow jabs into his ribs, making Sam let go of the steering wheel with nothing less than a snarl. Folding his arms around his chest, Sam looks out the window at the forest. He doesn’t want to be here. Humboldt Redwoods State Park was where he and Jess had planned on camping after they graduated. After Sam had been accepted into law school. The whole area is awash with memories that Sam never got the chance to create. 

  
His brother doesn’t seem to notice that he’s not interested in their argument any more, keeps charging full steam ahead. 

  
“It’s a fucking plant, Sammy. We cut it, we touch it, eat it, whatever, and—boom—our pheromones increase. Nothing wrong with edging out the competition when we hit Hollywood. Hey, we should totally find out where that girl who played ‘Buffy’ lives. She was hot.” 

  
“We’re not going to Hollywood to bang chicks. We’ve got work to do. You heard Dad—he’s closing in on the demon.” 

  
“Yeah. And you heard Dad too. He doesn’t want us around. So we’re going to grab this plant, go sit on a beach, drink some beer, and get laid for a few weeks. A novel idea that some people call ‘vacation’.” 

  
“Ugh.” Sam’s about two seconds away from shouting that he wants _out_ of this damn car, except that the last time he left, it almost resulted in Dean dying via a pagan god. And no matter how mad Sam is, how _stubborn_ his brother is being, Dean is practically the only thing he has left. Sam can’t afford to lose him. 

  
\--  


Once he’s out of the car and Dean’s no longer in his immediate bubble of space, he feels better. More relaxed. The sequoia forest is just as impressive as Sam had imagined—tall, majestic. Silent, except for the sound of Dean crunching down on peanut M&Ms. 

  
“C’mon Sammy. Get looking, we don’t have all day.” 

  
They do, actually. As many hours or days as they care to spend, but Sam dutifully grabs the guidebook to Californian flowers from the home it’s found in his back pocket. 

  
“Alright, the variety around here is called _Pinguicula vulgaris_ and it has a purple, glandular flower that traps insects.” 

  
“Ah. Beautiful and carnivorous. A plant after my own heart,” Dean says, flashing Sam a grin. It stirs something deep inside Sam that he’s been trying to ignore since they’ve been back on the road together. 

  
These feelings, they need to stop. Sam already knows how Dean’s fingers feel trailing down his spine, how his breath smells first thing in the morning. None of these should be appealing, because it’s _Dean_. His brother. And what the hell is Sam doing thinking about sex anyways? Dean had let Dad tell him to not come back. Hadn’t said a word when Sam had walked out the door, even though he’d known exactly how Sam had felt about him, he’d still driven him to the bus stop. Didn’t even try to stop him. Not once. Whatever might have happened between them shattered to pieces when Sam had disappeared to California. It’s ironic that Sam’s sick desire for his brother has snuck up on him, here, of all places. 

  
“Hey, Sam,” Dean’s voice calls him to the base of an ancient sequoia. “This it?” He questions pointing to a small purple flowering plant. 

  
Opening the worn book to a dog-eared page, Sam assesses the plant. “Yup,” he proclaims, after he’s sure. “That’s it.” 

  
“Great,” Dean says, before bending over and taking out a pair of scissors. The back of Dean’s shirt rides up, drawing Sam’s eyes to a strip of white skin, just the barest hint of his ass showing. No harm in looking, right? 

  
“Wait, Dean. Shouldn’t you have gloves on or something?” His brother might be bullheaded about this stupid idea he’s got, but that doesn’t mean that Sam won’t look out for him. After all, family’s family. He’ll always have Dean’s back. 

  
“Dude. The point of coming here was to touch the plant so it’ll give me awesome pheromones, remember?” 

  
“Yeah…but…don’t you want to wait? Like until we’re down on the beach at least?” 

  
“Why? You worried you won’t be able to control yourself around me, Sammy?” 

  
“No,” he spits back. Perhaps a little too defensively, because Dean raises his eyebrows. “Whatever. Do what you want. Just don’t blame me if you get propositioned by every trucker getting cheap gas-station coffee.” 

  
“Yeah, well. That’s what this is for,” Dean responds, lifting up his jacket for Sam to see his .44 magnum tucked into his washed out jeans. Like Sam hadn’t attentively watched him stick it in. 

  
It only takes a second for Dean to clip the flower from its stem, and then it’s placed carefully into the same plastic bag that Dean had eaten a turkey-bacon sandwich from earlier. 

  
“See? Done. Harmless,” Dean says, hitting Sam’s back in a gesture of brotherly affection. 

  
Sam doesn’t believe that for a second. 

  
“Think fast,” Dean says, and throws the plastic covered flower at him. Sam catches on instinct, before shooting a glare at his brother. 

  
“Really?” 

  
“Yup.” 

  
Sam stuffs the plastic bag into the pocket of his jacket. It’s going to be a long ride down the 101. 

  
\--  


They stop at a diner not too far outside of San Francisco because Sam needs to pee, and Dean hasn’t shoved his mouth full of coffee and grease for at least six hours. 

  
Of course, when he comes back from the bathroom, Dean’s flirting with the waitress. And yeah, Dean’s flirted with almost every diner waitress in the lower 48, but dammit, Sam’s not going sit by himself in this poor excuse for a restaurant because Dean wants to get laid. No, the days that Sam had the patience for that—pined, even over not being the one to push Dean against a cold wall next to a vibrant-blue dumpster—are long gone. 

  
Instead, he smiles. The pissed off, thin-lipped raise of his lips that brings out his dimples in a slightly different light, before sliding into the booth along with, rather than across from Dean. Then he throws his arm around his brother and pulls him in tight, ignoring Dean’s undignified squawk as he asks the wide-eyed girl for a cup of coffee with cream and a chicken salad. 

  
Eventually, Dean manages to push him off. 

  
“Dude. What’s up with the cock block?” he asks, rearranging his jacket. 

  
It doesn’t feel right, not touching his brother, so Sam splays his legs, making sure that his thigh is touching Dean’s. There, that’s more soothing. He wants everyone to see that Dean is _his_.

  
Sam shrugs his brother’s question off. “We’ve still got a long way to Los Angeles. Didn’t really sign up for another hour of waiting around.” 

  
They sit in silence until the food comes, and when they leave, Sam places his hand on the small of Dean’s back. The waitress grins at Sam, who winks back. Oddly enough, Dean lets Sam guide him out of the diner, not saying a word as they get into separate sides of the Impala. Sam falls asleep to the habitual sound of classic rock blaring in his ears. 

  
\--  


The sounds of Dean huffing quietly wake Sam up, somewhere around Santa Maria. 

  
“You alright, Dean?” Sam says, voice slightly hoarse, attempting to wipe sleep from his eyes. He blinks a few times, just to make sure that he’s actually seeing what he’s _seeing_. Which is Dean trying to stuff his thick, bloodshot dick back into his jeans. It also looks like Dean’s cock is winning the battle to stay unconfined. 

  
“Uh. Look. I mean, don’t _look_ , but it’s not like I usually do this while you’re passed out next to me. It’s just—it got so hard it starting hurting, and I had to take it out for some pain relief.” 

  
“Do you think it’s the plant?” Sam asks, curious now. His own dick is starting to react to the scent of sex in the air—probably all the increased pheromones that Dean’s releasing. 

  
“Guess you were right about that,” Dean concedes. 

  
“Guess I was,” Sam says, and then awkwardly clears his throat. “If you want me to help you out with that…” He gestures at Dean’s erection, “I’m more than happy to lend a hand…or my mouth.” 

  
The Impala swerves when he says the word ‘mouth’, but Dean manages to get the car back under control. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t give Sam a definitive answer, but they’ve never been good at talking in his family. 

  
Sam fingers slide against the seatbelt, unhooking the latch mechanism which enables him to lean across the bench seat of the car. It’s almost too good to be true, Sam doesn’t get the things he wants in life—like Dean panting heavily above him as Sam wraps his fingers around his brother’s cock for the first time. Dean’s dick is hot in his hand, skin stretched tight and blood-filled to the point that Sam’s not surprised that his brother is in pain from the hardness. That fact doesn’t stop him from taking his time with Dean’s cock. Rubbing it against the side of his face and pressing closed-mouth kisses up the shaft. He doesn’t allow his tongue to slip out of his mouth until he gets to the head, where Dean’s slit is oozing pre-come. 

  
Sam licks around the base of the head first before he laps up Dean’s fluid. Unsurprisingly, it tastes a lot like his own come, mostly bitter with a hint of salt. His hand works Dean’s shaft mercilessly, stripping it as if it were Sam’s own penis, while licking furiously at the aggregation of nerves located just underneath the head. Dean’s thighs start to tense underneath him, and then he’s trying to pull Sam off his dick with one hand, still driving the car with the other. Sam doesn’t let him. In fact, he leans forward and swallows as much of Dean’s cock as possible until he starts choking, and then Dean’s coming down his throat, soft warm spurts that make him cough after he’s pulled up and buckled himself back into his seat. 

  
“I think we should get rid of the plant,” is the only thing that Dean says, as Sam roots around for a water bottle. 

  
“Probably a good idea, so you don’t wind up in the ER with some nurse drawing blood from your dick with a giant syringe.” 

  
“You know…” Dean starts saying before trailing off. 

  
Sam waits patiently for Dean to get up the courage to say whatever it is that’s on his mind. 

  
“Well, I’ll return the favor, if you want it,” Dean says so quickly, that it takes Sam’s brain a moment to catch up. 

  
“What?” 

  
“You gave me a blow-job. And, I’d never leave someone hanging afterwards…not even you. So if you want one…”

  
Goddammit. Of course Sam wants a blow job from his brother. There had been years when he hadn’t thought of anything besides being buried inside Dean’s ass or his mouth. Just, now…now that they’re older, he doesn’t want one like this. Not because Dean thinks he’s repaying a debt. 

  
“No thanks,” he says stiffly, kicking himself on the inside. It might be the only chance he’ll ever have to find out exactly what Dean’s lips look like all shiny with spit and stretched wide over the girth of his cock. Still, it’s not worth it if Dean doesn’t _want_ to go down on him. 

  
“Oh for fuck’s sake. I offer to suck your dick, and you fucking throw a temper tantrum. Figures.” 

  
“Really, Dean. You’re mad at _me_ now? Look—you know I feel about you. You’ve known since the night before I went off to Stanford. And what I just did? I would have done it with or without some goddamn sex pheromones fogging both of our minds. But you? No, I’m not letting you give me head because you feel guilty for picking that flower in the first place. Or that you owe me some kind of debt. You don’t.” 

  
The car swerves again, but this time, Dean pulls over on the side of the now-dark interstate. Sam opens his door to get out, because they’re clearly about to have one of their talks. The type that Dean doesn’t want to be driving for. 

  
Sam sits down on the hood of the Impala and draws his legs up to his chest, insecurities winding their way through his brain, wondering if Dean’s about to ditch him for good. What if he’d thought that Sam’s obsession with him had just been a phase, something he’d grown out of while at college? And now that he knows that Sam’s still irrationally in love with him, he’s going to turn the car around and drop Sam back at Stanford. Tell him to lose his phone number, this time for good. 

  
“Sam?” Dean asks quietly from beside him. 

  
“Yeah?” 

  
“What if I told you it wasn’t like that…what if I told you that I’m just as fucked up, because I want you too? Back when you left for Stanford, I wanted you to go and have a normal life, hell Sammy, I still do. I just thought you could do that--you could forget about me if I wasn’t around. Guess I was wrong.” 

  
“Are you fucking with me?” 

  
Dean doesn’t answer with words, or by making a grand gesture and pressing Sam into the hood of the car. Instead, he slots himself next to Sam and sneaks his hand underneath Sam’s larger one. 

  
“And you’re sure it’s not the sex pollen that’s clouding your judgment, making me super-attractive or something like that?” Sam asks. 

  
“Pfft,” Dean responds. “I’m still prettier than you.” 

  
Sam won’t argue that point. 

  
“But to answer your question. No. I’m me…just...hornier than usual.” 

  
Glancing down, Sam sees Dean’s erection pressed against the seam of his jeans. 

  
“So, you wanna?” Dean asks. 

  
“I can see why you wanted help from a sex plant. You’re really bad at pick-up lines. But yes, I do.” 

  
Dean lays back on the hood of the car, allowing Sam to crowd in between his legs, wasting no time with foreplay. Unbuckling first Dean’s belt, then his own, he strips them down, spreading Dean’s legs as far as they’ll go. 

  
He groans when his dick rubs against his brother’s for the first time. 

  
“You know, I’ve dreamed of this—so many times,” Sam says as Dean bucks up against him, their balls slapping loudly in the warm night air. “But it doesn’t come close to this.” 

  
“Hopefully in a good way,” Dean snarks as he wraps his hand around both of them, giving them extra pressure, extra friction. 

  
“Fuck, Dean,” Sam says, mouthing into Dean’s neck, sucking on his pulse point as he ruts deeper into his brother’s hand. 

  
“Later. I promise. Somewhere nice though, not the side of a highway.” 

  
Sam can’t respond back because he’s overwhelmed by every nerve in his body lighting up, and it only increases when Dean’s free hand grabs the back of his neck, pressing him further into his neck. 

  
Sam suckles his way through his orgasm, teeth and lips attached to Dean as if they were the only thing grounding him to this plane of existence, and before long Dean’s joining him in bone-deep relaxation, wiping his come covered hand into Sam’s hipbone. 

  
“Really?” 

  
Dean grins back at him. At least Sam’s under no illusion that this isn’t 100% his brother’s idea—maybe just with relaxed inhibitions. 

  
\--  


They’re pulling up their pants, about to get back into the car, when police sirens pull up right behind their parked car, followed by an officer walking towards them. 

  
“You alright gentlemen?” 

  
“Absolutely,” Dean says, grinning a little too strongly. “Couldn’t be better.” 

  
“Well, I got a call about a car parked on the shoulder of the road here, so I came to make sure everything was okay.” 

  
Sam takes over before Dean can do any damage. “Thanks for your concern officer, we just had to take a quick break, if you get my drift. We’ve been cooped up in the car since the Redwoods.” 

  
After the officer checks their license and registration with pointed suggestions about pulling over at an _actual_ rest stop, he lets them off with a warning about public urination. 

  
“Close one,” Dean says as turns the key in the ignition. 

  
“Yeah. Thank god he didn’t actually catch us. Our matching brother licenses might not have gone over too well then.” 

  
“He would have been in for quite the shock, huh. Anyways. Uh. Where to, Sam?” 

  
“No reason we can’t still go to Venice Beach.” 

  
“True.” 

  
It doesn’t sound like Dean’s quite convinced. 

  
“But, uh, I thought maybe we could hole up while the freaking sex-plant works its way out of my system.” 

  
Sure enough, when Sam looks down, the beginnings of another hard on is starting to fill out Dean’s jeans. 

  
“Nearest motel then?” he asks. 

  
Dean nods. “And we should probably burn that plant.” 

  
“Or we could store it in the trunk. For. You know. Educational reasons.” 

  
Dean raises an eyebrow. “Education reasons?” 

  
“Yeah. You know. _Science_.”

  
“Fine,” Dean says, gunning the engine, trying to get them to a cheap room with a California king-sized bed as fast as possible. “But next time, for _science_ , you get to be the one with an unquenchable erection.” 

  
“Deal,” Sam responds, stashing the plant in the glove compartment. “And I take back what I said earlier. I was wrong.” 

  
“Hmm?” 

  
“I guess in this universe, looking for a sex-pheromone-inducing-plant actually turned out alright.” 

  
  
END 


End file.
